


winter’s eight

by capmackie



Series: sambucky week ‘19 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ocean’s Eleven, Art Collector Sam Wilson, Criminal Mastermind Bucky Barnes, M/M, SamBucky Week 2019, con men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2020-12-28 22:29:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21144257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capmackie/pseuds/capmackie
Summary: it’s always a bad idea mixing business with personal but bucky must say, stealing $220 million dollars and his sam back from justin hammer — truly puts a smile on his face.—written for day iv of sambucky week 19 — alternate earth / reality.





	1. Chapter 1

_Ninety-eight_  
_Ninety-nine_

"Rise and shine Barnes, time to go!"

Stopping mid push-up, supporting the majority of his weight on his left arm, James Barnes eyes the asshole warden currently standing by the metal cell door, before resuming his activity, completing the last one.

_One hundred_

If there was any indication that James — Bucky, was in any rush to leave the concrete cage he's called home for the past six years, the man didn't show it. Pausing to wipe his hands on the khaki uniform, Bucky takes his time surveying the four walls of the cell, as if seeing it truly for the first time. Taking in the rust of the wrought iron bars on the window, packed tightly together, the tally marks carved into the walls after being sentenced. He took in the cramped bed, his sleeping roommate, the truly claustrophobic feel of his _now _previous area.

"Any day now Barnes", the guard huffs, no doubt unmoved by the immate making his peace in the chilled room. He's seen this a million times over, often from men who are right back in the same cell not even twenty-four hours later.

"Let's get a move on here."

Grabbing his journal, his small piece of serenity in the prison, Bucky walks out of the cell and down the narrow hallway leading to the front of the prison and the outside world.

Taking a moment to run his fingers through his unkempt hair, he gathers his belongings — what's left of them anyway, and then he's off, walking out of the prison and into the cool, winter day.

\---

"Hi Mr. Fury — great name by the way", Bucky says, the cheeky smile evident in his voice, "I was told to check in with you within twenty-four hours".

Nicolas Fury, all fire and brimstone, shoots off rapid fire questions, inquiring about Bucky's whereabouts and wellbeing.

Bucky takes them all in stride.

"No, I haven't gotten into any trouble."  
"No, I haven't been drinking, no hard drugs either."  
"And no, I would never do something as stupid as leave the state."

Once Officer Fury's placated by Bucky's answers, he wishes him well, reminding him to check in again in a couple of days or he'll have the entirety of the New Jersey Police Department on his ass like,_ ahem_ white on rice.

Bucky chuckles his agreement before ending the call, placing the payphone back on its’ handle.

It hasn't even been a full day since Bucky's been a free man, a regular civilian, a regular person. For him to do something as stupid as violating his parole is _absurd_. He's lost six years behind bars, spent six birthdays in the slammer, missed six of Sam's birthdays, he — Bucky pauses at the thought of his former lover, feeling the weight of guilt and anxiousness swirl then settle in the pit of his stomach.

And as much as his reputation precedes him as being a charming, well put together fellow — and for the most part, it's completely true — Sam has always been his weak spot, his Achilles heel. The person who he'd do anything for, _has_ done anything for, including a dozen schemes and frauds — one of which landed him in the big house for the better part of a decade.

_A small price to pay to ensure he could provide Sam the livelihood he deserved._

And while a reasonable person would never do something as absurdly stupid as to violate their parole and find himself back in prison and further away from Sam again, it's only been about eighteen hours since he's been on the outside and he’s already replaced the stale air of the prison for the fresh, albeit smoky air of Las Vegas.

It hasn't even been a full day before Bucky's indeed already violating his parole, celebrating his newfound freedom with a new plan and old habits in America's playground.


	2. Chapter 2

The first step in any great heist is formulating the plan.

You’ll need a target, the inner and outer workings of said target. You’ll need to know the stakes, what the heist entails, how much money is needed to fund the scheme. Most importantly, any good con artist knows there needs to be a _reason, _some motivation to put your life and freedom on the line just to take down the house.

The second step in any great heist is devising a team.

And that’s how Bucky finds himself in northern Vegas, staring at the hairy expanse of chest belonging to one Tony Stark.

“Out of all the ways I thought my morning would go”, Tony pauses, taking a moment to sip his mimosa, his Versace silk shirt flapping with the breeze, “I have to say this was not one of them.”

Bucky eyes him carefully, knows partly that he’s piqued Tony’s interest since he’s still sitting poolside by the billionaire and not being thrown out on his ass, but he can’t be too sure.

“You of all people should know the bigger the risk, the greater the reward, Stark.”

Tony reclines in his seat, soaking up some of the sun’s rays before facing Bucky, one eyebrow cocked up curiously.

“That saying is for playing in casinos Barnes, not robbing them.”

Pausing again to indulge in his drink, frowning when he spills a little of the concoction on his glorified pajama shirt, Tony turns his attention back to Bucky, leveling him with one look.

“I have no doubt that you could pull this off, but take it from me, a _technological genius, _I actually have no faith that you could pull this off. Sorry.”

Smirking, Bucky pushes away from the table, wiping his mouth and depositing the napkin back onto his plate. He’s pushing in his chair, turning to walk away when, right on queue, Tony asks the million — _ahem_, billion-dollar question:

“Just wondering, what casino were you planning to rob Barnes?”

He partly knows Tony’s interested by the way the older man won’t stop fiddling with his napkins, shifting left to right in the expensive, wicker chair, crossing and uncrossing his leg beneath the glass table. But what Bucky knows without a shadow of a doubt is that Tony’s as vengeful as he is rich. And it’s this vengefulness that Bucky’s banking on, literally.

Cool as a cucumber, Bucky chews on his toothpick, waits a beat and replies, “nothing major, just The Avengers Tower.”

And that — _that_ lights a fire under Tony’s ass and before Bucky knows it, the billionaire is up, talking and waving his hands animatedly.

“You do know that’s Hammer’s place, right?”, Tony asks, inching closer for confirmation, “I just want to make that clear.”

“I had no idea that was Hammer’s place”, Bucky replies, lying through his teeth. “Also”, he adds for good measure, “who in the hell is Hammer?”

Tony scoffs loudly, incredulously, “_Hammer _is just the biggest snake on this side of the country. The asshole smiled in my face while double-crossing me and in this business, that’s unforgivable.”

“If you’re going to _betray _someone, at least have the balls to do it in their face.”

Bucky hums in agreement — the scandal of Hammer muscling Tony out of their planned casino to make it his and his alone made waves in the crime circuit. You would have had to live under a rock to not hear about it or the subsequent meltdown Tony had afterward. It was the one piece of information Bucky held on to while in prison, what kept him going when the confined space threatened to suffocate him.

That and Sam.

Moving forward, “Are you in Tony?”

Bucky knows more than anything how motivating revenge could be — hell, it’s motivating him too — but Tony’s already rich, the money pulled in from the heist would be pocket change to him. No, he needs another angle, the finishing touch to get the billionaire to back him up.

Bucky turns to leave, the gold marbling of Stark Manor leading the way out. He hesitates, throws over his shoulder casually, “For what it’s worth, I’m sure whatever you were building would have been a fuck ton better than what Hammer put up.”

A wave of smugness flashes over Tony’s face before quickly settling into indifference. Bucky doesn’t even have to see it, he knows he hit his target.

“You drive a hard bargain but I’m in Barnes,” Tony smirks, his pride his downfall.

“But if you’re going for Hammer, you’re going to have to assemble a team.”

“I’m one step ahead of you, _partner.”_

And with a quick nod to the billionaire, Bucky’s off to assemble the said team. He only has two weeks to pull this off, he has to move quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more world-building!
> 
> also, i've never written for any other characters besides sambucky so my tony might be a little ooc, but oh well.
> 
> come talk to me @capmackie on tumblr!


	3. Chapter 3

Rounding up the rest of the crew goes as smoothly as a man on parole gathering a team of the best criminals on this side of the Eastern seaboard could possibly go. 

In any other instance and to any other man, it would've spelled a trip back to New Jersey in metal handcuffs and a three to six month bid. For James Buchanan Barnes, it only meant racking up frequent flier miles. 

But back to the team. 

He has Thor and Loki Odinson, a pair of gifted yet irritating brothers; James Rhodes, an explosives expert; Clint Barton, the go-to guy for surveillance; and Natasha Romanoff, an accomplished acrobat. 

The group is almost complete but he's missing one key piece. 

\---

Bucky finds the missing link in Los Angeles, teaching D-list celebrities how to play cards. 

The club is hazy — all plush, red leather and wood accents. There are multiple chandeliers hanging, streaming light below, breaking up the monotony of red the club is bathed in, casting an eerie glow throughout. In the middle lies the dance floor, packed past capacity; the who’s who of the LA club circuit as far as the eye can see. Past the socialites and the influencers is the bar — more red, more wood, rounding out the aesthetic. 

Beyond that, shrouded in clouds of smoke and nursing a whiskey neat, is the man of the hour. 

Steve Rogers. 

Walking over to his friend, basking in the anonymity of the club, Bucky feels the stress slink away, feels his shoulders roll down an inch and his hands unclench. 

For all the mystery that surrounds the man, Bucky’s always been more comfortable in a crowd. 

Because there, he was always one of two people. He was either James Barnes, smooth-talker, equally adept with his mouth as his hands. A man of wanton luxury; someone women wanted to sleep with and men wanted to be — and also sleep with. 

Or he could be absolutely no one. 

In a crowd, he could be just another person getting from point A to point Z. In those moments, he reveled in the anonymity, slipped within it like a cashmere sweater — warm and comforting, all the same. 

And after six years of being readily identified by either his last name or even worse, just a number, Bucky’s grateful, more so now, for the chance to be a nobody. 

A feeling that he knows Steve appreciates as well.

But criminals don’t get to stay anonymous for too long and Steve must know it too — the weight of a gaze heavy on him, making him turn in his chair, eyes eventually landing on Bucky, almost as if he knew how this evening would play out. 

And with Steve’s luck and intuition, he probably did. 

The two friends acknowledge each other, only breaking eye contact as Steve tips his head to motion for Bucky to follow him. 

There’s a multitude of history between the two men, a loyalty that runs deeper than blood, stands greater than the test of time. Running in similar circles -- with names so legendary -- they were bound to cross paths at some point; even before that, the tales of their conquests familiarized the men before they even stepped in the same room. It wasn’t until the eighth time they stumbled into one another on a take — stealing a rare jewel from a vault so secure it made the White House seem exposed — that they realized they would work better as a team than as individuals. And that they did. 

While Bucky could be called the ‘brains’ of the operation, the taskmaster who seemed to know the ins and outs of machinery and people alike — what made them tick, what made them open up and Steve the ‘brawn’, a force of man that seemed to move mountains by a sheer force of will; it hardly did any justice to how much they excelled in the art of thievery. Bucky was more akin to the eyes of the operation as it was always Bucky’s vision for which take was next, how it could be done, seeing ten steps ahead of an obstacle. And it was Steve, the heart of it all -- the people person, the one who could corral a team around the goal, who could flirt his way in and out of a dangerous situation. 

It was a known fact that the phrase ‘thick as thieves’ was coined after James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers. 

In an occupation where good people ran few and far between, a good _partner_ was even rarer to come by. 

— 

The two men end up in a back room, clothed in more red leather and wood, a card table in the middle of the space. 

Bucky slides into a seat, introduces himself as _ Danny Ocean,_ laughs along with the idiot celebrities who make sea jokes at his expense. 

Steve rounds his group, reminds them of the rules of Texas Hold ‘Em, taking his seat across from Bucky. 

From there it’s absolute chaos. 

Bucky Ocean watches as Miss America, the guy from Riverdale and other celebrities he probably couldn’t identify with a gun pointed to his head, break every rule in poker — one of them even has six cards. 

_ Six!_

The urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of Steve Rogers, professional con man, squandering his talents in a skeezy place like this is strong. But Bucky isn’t here to poke fun, he’s here to work. 

Pulling out a few thousand dollars, all hundreds, Bucky buys into the game currently starting up, eyeing the celebrity with the six cards, smirking in delight as he sees Steve deal himself into the game as well.

It's a simple hand, a straight flush but he raises the bet, ups the ante to $2,000, throwing the money in the middle of the table. The actor next to him — ‘Arrow’ maybe? — calls Bucky's bet and Steve follows suit. Two celebrities immediately bow out. 

“See guys”, Steve admonishes, “you can’t be afraid of your cards, can’t let the hand lead you. You must lead it.”

Steve’s words are awfully poetic, so poetic Bucky can’t help but think he’s no longer only talking about the game in session. So Bucky obliges him, taking a moment to throw down another crisp $100 bill in the pile, and agrees, “You’re right Steve, you must control your own luck.”

“Sometimes you even have to take someone else’s luck.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, knowing that Bucky’s also isn’t only talking about the cards in his hands. Whatever he’s talking about, however, must be big; _big _enough to come seeking him out so quickly after being released from prison. Steve is intrigued. 

Most of the actors fold their hands, either out of a lack of good cards or just because they’re idiots but it’s down to Bucky, Steve and the actor from Riverdale, upping the ante as Steve and Bucky continue to conspire. 

“What’s the take this time?”, Steve inquires, rolling his eyes as one of the actors _literally calls_ out the amount in the center of the table. 

Bucky shrugs, poised as always, like he’s not about to ask for a favor that he could never pay back, in this lifetime or the next, “I just want to be compensated for my time”. 

“Maybe even go to Vegas, see how much luck I have left and how much I need to take back.” He pauses for a moment, letting the weight of the words settle into the air before continuing. “I’m all in.”

And Bucky knows this is silly; Steve may be wasting his talent here with these idiots but it ludicrous to just stroll back into his life with something of this magnitude, something that can almost guarantee that they’d never see the light of day again. It’s silly and it’s selfish and in no way something a good partner could ever ask of. 

The air is tense between them; a silent conversation being spoken just by the intense eye contact shared. Bucky’s five seconds away from just calling it off, accepting defeat and leaving the club when Steve finally speaks up. 

“All in.”

—

Adding Steve Rogers to the team feels like a monumental step, like the plan is indeed coming together. And in a way, it totally is. 

Because it’s Steve who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a _janitor,_ that has the blueprints to three specific casino vaults in Vegas. Bucky only needs one but to ease the suspicion off of their trail, takes all three. 

And it’s Steve who also knows of a stripper who dances for a guy who knows a guy who knows the security_ guard _at the Avengers Tower. 

And most importantly of all, it’s Steve who suggests adding one more person to the team, a talented pickpocket named Peter Parker. 

—

Obviously enough, Parker is a hard man to find. 

And Bucky gets it — as a professional thief himself, he hasn’t gotten this far by being easy to locate. But Steve knows someone who knows someone who knows _two_ someone’s and that’s how Bucky finds himself in New York, in the middle of a crowded L train across from Parker himself. 

For what it’s worth, Parker is nothing special. A thin kid, who looks barely old enough to drink and that’s enough to give Bucky pause, bringing someone so young into the fold is _ dastardly _ and _ immoral _ and — Parker just stole that man’s wallet. 

Well, shit. 

If Bucky hadn’t been watching the young man so closely, he wouldn’t have caught the act. But he’s certain of what he saw, of Parker using the sway of the train and nimble fingers to lift the wallet, slipping it into his own coat with ease. It’s an impressive feat and Bucky quickly understands why Steve recommends this guy; the babyface is a front, a feign of innocence. The lithe frame supports his agility. 

Having seen enough, Bucky makes his way off of the train, bumping past Parker, dipping into the young man’s coat to exchange the stolen wallet with his own business card. With a salute of his left hand, Bucky’s off, lost in the bustling crowd. 

If all goes to plan, all Bucky has to do is wait until Parker comes to him. 

In neat cursive, the card reads: _If you want this back, you know where to find me - O'Hannigan's Pub._

The ball is in his court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @capmackie


	4. Chapter 4

It doesn’t take long for Parker to find Bucky after all. 

The instructions on the business card were clear but it was always a chance that Parker wouldn’t be bothered enough to show up. That Parker could decide to count his loss and just not show up for a simple wallet, albeit one full to the brim with cash and credit cards, but there’s a chance that even that isn’t enough to engage the younger man.

Even worse, Parker could think he was some kind of law enforcement officer luring him into a trap.

But men like Parker, men like Bucky and Steve and even _Sam_ to some extent, didn’t make it this far without leaning into the things that’ve piqued their curiosity.

And even with every reason as to why Parker wouldn’t come, every bit of his common sense that _should _be screaming to run from the danger, Bucky’s willing to bet that the younger man would follow the breadcrumbs that would lead him right to O’Hannigan’s.

Right to Bucky. 

Bucky’s not really a gambling man; gambling leaves too much to chance — the ball rolling into a red pocket that should have been black, a deuce when you’re at twenty in blackjack — but that only serves to heighten the sweet, sweet pleasure of him being proved right. Nothing compares to the thrill; well maybe besides the way Sam used to look at him, like a promise everlasting, the first day of sunshine after a dark winter — uh, never mind, back to the task at hand.

As he waves Parker down, the metal gleaming in the light, he can’t help but be pleased with the turn of events. The Cheshire grin only widening as the man and the myth sits in front of him.

“You know it isn’t right to steal from people, don’t you?”, Parker admonishes, glancing quickly at the metal arm cradling Bucky’s drink.

“I call it righting a wrong Peter Parker”, Bucky says, eyes tracking at how Parker goes rigid at the use of his full name. Pausing to raise his glass to his lips, he continues, “let me buy you a drink in apology.”

“How do you know who I am?

The sly grin passes again over Bucky’s face, twisting the features almost predatorily.

“I don’t know you Parker, however, I did know your Uncle Ben, who by the way, regardless of what was said of him, was indeed a great man.”

“My uncle was a thief and a liar”, Parker snorts, eyes narrowing at the mention of his uncle. Ben, who preferred infamy to family and maybe even was better of because of it, was a common name in the crime circuit. A thief of all thieves.

“So it runs in the family then?”

“If you’re smart enough to know my full name, and dumb enough to know my uncle, you know for sure I’m not old enough to drink yet”, Parker says, flitting the business card between those slick fingers, a nervous tick.

In this line of work there’s no room for nerves; no room for emotions, no room for hesitation but Bucky’s been in this game longer than most, plays for the highest of stakes and he knows a crook when he sees one, even if said crook has a baby face and enough charm to sway a nun to sin.

“If you’re smart as I think you _are_”, Bucky says, pausing for a second to rattle the rapidly melting ice in his whisky neat, “you should know when you’re being made, you gotta know when the jig is up.”

“Now, I can give you back this wallet and you can take the cash, try your luck with the cards inside that are sure to be cancelled by now, or”, Bucky continues, waiting a beat, letting the condensation on the rim of the glass start to trickle downward before he speaks. “Or you can meet me here and reap a bounty a hundred times greater.”

The small drop has enlargened, a fat droplet racing to the bottom of the glass, ready to join others just like it at the surface of the table. 

Bucky eyes it for a second; let’s it swell up like the tension in the air, the tension between him and Parker.  
Before the droplet meets the others circling the table, he puts the ball back in Parker’s court; laying down a hundred dollar bill and a one-way flight to Vegas at the same time. 

“The choice is yours”. 

By the time the droplet reaches its final destination, and Bucky’s pushing the pub’s door open to pass, he hears Parker murmuring his agreement. 

Hook, line and sinker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to @queerblackqueen who reminded me that this fic existed 💕
> 
> @capmackie on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> i have about 3.4k words written for this but i only wanted to add the world-building stuff now to meet the deadline for my day iv submission.  
lmk if i should continue this!
> 
> come see the moodboard and my other submissions for sbweek19 @ capmackie 💗


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